Vengeance is Mine - A Benjamin Tucker Mystery

by Harry James Krebs

  “You’re Benjamin Tucker, aren’t you?” she asked.

  “Uh … no,” I said sheepishly. “He left earlier. I don’t think he’ll ever be back.” She didn’t smile at my ill attempt at humor.

  “I read your book and was very impressed,” she said. “I hope you’ll write about this case after it’s over. Of course, it’d be nice if you left the lesbian part out.” She turned and left.

  Netter and Cox, who had been watching from the front of the room, returned, snickering. “Way to go, Tucker,” Netter said. “Am I going to see a sexual harassment complaint coming my way?”

  “I don’t think so … at least not yet,” I said. “I sure stuck my foot in it that time, didn’t I? Man, you should have seen the look on her face. She looked like she wanted to put my balls in a meat grinder.”

  Cox put his hand on my shoulder. “Well, Ben, I hear lesbians are like that.” The two of them left the room, laughing at me.

  CHAPTER 10

  After a bathroom stop, I got in the Jag and split for Triangle Electronics. Twenty minutes later, I had a camcorder small enough to fit in the palm of my hand, and I plugged its charging cable into the twelve-volt power accessory outlet in the console.

  After a quick stop for gas, I wolfed down a Quarter Pounder with cheese, French fries, and a Coke. I normally didn’t eat in my car, but I needed to keep the engine running to charge the camera battery.

  When I arrived at the First Baptist Church a few minutes past noon, there were only four other cars in the parking lot. Once inside, I went directly into the sanctuary and walked up and down and back and forth for a few minutes, casing the joint. I found the perfect spot for the camera alongside a potted plant on a windowsill, about thirty feet from the pedestals that would support Knudsen’s casket. The camera battery was only about half charged, but it would have to do. I aimed it in the direction of the guests and turned it on.

  I turned around to leave and almost ran into Agent MacKenzie, who was standing right behind me again, with a grey trench coat draped over her arm.

  “Crap!” I blurted. “You scared the hell out of me.”

  She looked over my shoulder. “What are you doing? Are you recording this memorial?”

  “Yes. Do you think that’s morbid?”

  “Of course it’s morbid! But so is murdering someone and removing their head.” She pointed to the camera. “Good idea, Tucker. I want a copy of that video.”

  “Absolutely.”

  She looked toward the church entry, and I looked at her fine figure. “People are starting—” She stopped and turned around. “What are you looking at?” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Were you checking me out?”

  “Of course not,” I said.

  “Yes, you were! You were checking me out. And in a church, no less! Don’t you have any shame?”

  “I wasn’t checking you out,” I said defensively, “I was just looking to see if you were wearing a sidearm.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, right, on my ass? Cause that’s where you were lookin’. Anyway, people are starting to come in.”

  I walked to the back of the church and sat where I could watch each person as they entered. Surprisingly, Special Agent MacKenzie sat beside me. At ten minutes before one, Lieutenant Netter and Detective Cox entered and sat in the back on the opposite side. They looked over at Lainie and me, and I winked at them. Their faces said, “What the fuck?”

  The service lasted an hour and ten minutes. During the entire time, my eyes were glued to the grieving family, especially the parents. It was as if I had traveled seventeen years back in time, reliving Christine’s memorial. The choir even sang the same damn hymns, haunting me with every key played on the organ.

  I waited for almost everyone to leave before retrieving my camera. Lainie had hitched a ride to the church with Netter and Cox, so I offered her a ride to the cemetery. She accepted.

  When we got to the Jaguar Lainie stopped and raised her eyebrows. “This is your car?” I unlocked the doors. “Wedding present from my wife,” I said. “Or at least her money bought it. I believe it was actually picked out and purchased by her chief legal counsel. One day it just showed up in front of our guesthouse with a big red bow on it. I never did find out what happened to my old Corolla. It was just gone.”

  We got into the car, and Lainie checked it out. “This is the most beautiful car I’ve ever seen,” she said.

  “Yeah, it’s loaded, and … it’s supercharged.” I raised my eyebrows twice and put on my sunglasses.

  Everyone else had left the church by now, so I gunned it a little to get to the cemetery in time. As I parked in a remote spot under a large oak tree, it struck me what a beautiful day it was to be laying someone to rest. I killed the engine and looked at the video camera. “Damn,” I said. “The battery’s almost gone. But we have plan B.” I grabbed my briefcase from the backseat, opened it, and took out my digital camera. “We can still get digital photographs.”

  “Don’t you think people will be upset with you?”

  “I want you to stand off by yourself, but within almost everyone’s view. When I rub my nose, you let your hair down and flip your head a couple of times. I guarantee no one will notice what I’m doing. They’ll all be looking at you.”

  “Won’t they think that’s a little … inappropriate?” she asked.

  “Yep.”

  CHAPTER 11

  I dropped Agent MacKenzie off at the Cary PD and drove back to the estate. Our gardener, Hector, was meticulously adding a layer of pine straw to the planting area behind the pool. Hector was Roberta’s 30-year-old nephew, and he was a master at his craft. The grounds of the Marshak estate were the envy of the area.

  I parked and walked over to him.

  “Hello, Mr. Ben,” he said.

  “Hi, Hector.” I admired the mulching job. “Everything’s lookin’ great.” I ran my hand through my hair. “Listen, Roberta said something the other night and I was wandering if you could tell me what it means. I think she said … 'perro callejero’.”

  He nodded. “Si. Don’t worry, Mr. Ben. I will take care of it.”

  I frowned. “But what does it mean?” I asked.

  “It means she has seen a stray dog. Don’t worry. If I see it … I will grab my shovel … and I will chase it away.”

  I nodded. “Thanks, Hector.”

  Mumbling to myself, I entered the guesthouse from the garage through the connecting door. It had been a little wet at the cemetery, and I had grass clippings on my shoes, so I removed them before I stepped inside.

  After changing into some jeans and a T-shirt, I began the tedious task of downloading the cemetery photographs and organizing them into folders on my computer.

  I was temporarily rescued by the familiar sound of Oscar scratching at the front door. He scurried in when I opened it and waddled over to his water bowl to get a drink. Julie was always buying Oscar little outfits, and he had his own small chest of drawers in her bedroom. Today he was wearing a black T-shirt that said Bark for Jesus on the back. I shook my head.

  “Now that’s about the silliest lookin’ thing I’ve ever seen,” I said to him. “Although it’s hard to beat the bee outfit.” He looked at me and wagged his little butt.

  Julie knocked and poked her head in. “Hi, Ben. Is Oscar in here?” Oscar barked once and tore across the room to her.

  “There you are,” she said, and looked at me. “What do you think of his outfit? Reverend Walters was selling them at church last Sunday.” She giggled.

  “I always wondered if Oscar was religious,” I said. “Now I have my answer. But please … no tutus. Even a dog has some dignity.”

  She smiled and picked him up. “It’s time for dinner. Roberta said five minutes.”

  They left, and I was right behind them. It was Wednesday night and that meant Roberta’s Mexican fare. Tonight it was chicken mole, chile rellenos stuffed with asadero cheese, homemade refried beans, spanish rice, and two of her special salsas. The green tomatillo
salsa was my favorite; the red, which was Julie’s favorite, would remove paint from furniture. Roberta made her own tortillas with an authentic tortilla press handed down from her mother, and she served a heaping platter of soft, warm flour and corn tortillas. And did I say kick-butt guacamole?

  I gave Nora my usual hug and peck on the cheek. She wore a pale yellow pantsuit and soft black leather ballet slippers bedecked with jewels. A sapphire pendant and matching earrings completed the ensemble. I tickled Julie as I passed and claimed my customary spot at the table.

  Maggie was working late again, so it was just the four of us. After Nora said grace, Roberta filled my plate first with a mountain of food. I could hardly stand it as I waited politely while she served the others and took her place.

  Oscar, who had finished his own dinner, came over and sat at Roberta’s feet. She pointed her finger at him. “Diablo!” she said, and then she smiled and gave him a piece of chicken.

  “Grandma, you didn’t have to say grace,” Julie giggled. “We could have just let Oscar bark for Jesus.” She mischievously looked at me and asked, “And did you bark to Jesus today, Ben?”

  Everyone enjoyed a good laugh at my expense, and I had to laugh myself.

  When we were finished and stuffed, I looked at Roberta. “That was probably the best meal I’ve ever had. You’ll go down in history as the world’s greatest cook.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Ben,” she said. “I’m very happy that you enjoyed it.”

  I had been expecting her to blast me with some insult, so her cheerful response caught me off guard. Even Julie was speechless.

  It was cold out when I returned to the guesthouse. I could see my breath, and there was a light drizzle in the air, so I kicked the thermostat up a degree to take the chill off.

  As I resumed organizing the cemetery photos, the door opened and Maggie waltzed in, beaming from ear to ear.

  “Hey, Maggs. What’s up with the big ol’ smile?”

  “We are finished with the taxes.” She raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Thank you, Lord!” We high-fived, and she came around behind my chair and wrapped her arms around my neck. She smelled divine, and I breathed her in.

  “I forgot to tell you, the annual Museum of Art fundraiser is next Thursday evening,” she said. “It’s black tie.” She looked at my jeans and grimaced. “What the hell are you wearing?” she asked.

  I looked down at myself. “Just jeans and a T-shirt. Why?”

  “Stand up and turn around.” I did what I was told.

  “Where did you get those jeans?” she asked. “We don’t carry that brand, and they don’t fit you right.”

  “I got them at Walmart. They were only fourteen bucks.”

  “Oh for Pete’s sake, Ben! You must have twenty pairs of new jeans in your closet—all upscale brands that we carry. I’m the company CEO. Can you at least wear clothes we sell in our stores … please?”

  “No one will see me,” I said. “Besides, I’m not an upscale kind of a guy.”

  Maggie cocked her head and glared at me.

  “I’ll change right now.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Thursday morning, I downloaded the video file of the Knudsen memorial service from my video camera to my computer. I also copied the file to two flash drives for Lainie and Netter.

  Marcus Bradley called just as I finished and told me he had made a tee reservation for the two of us at Highlands Country Club on Saturday, April 20, nine days from now. I reluctantly accepted the invitation.

  Frankly, I had no interest in playing golf, but I had agreed halfheartedly to give it a chance when I met with him last November. It had been at our second meeting, and I had hoped he’d forgotten. No such luck.

  I thought back on that strange conversation. Marcus had requested that I stop by his office for the second time, but this time it was just the two of us.

  When I’d been shown in, he’d stood and greeted me. “Ben, thank you for taking the time to meet with me. Please sit down and make yourself comfortable.” He’d gestured toward a burgundy leather tufted chair in front of his desk.

  “I’m afraid we got off on the wrong foot a few weeks ago, and I can only imagine what you must think of me.”

  “Frankly,” I’d said, looking him in the eye, “I think you’re a pompous ass.”

  Marcus had smiled. “Maybe so,” he’d said. “Maybe so. But I’m the kind of person who will admit to making a mistake, and I made a mistake about you. It’s been a long time since I’ve met an honest man, and I didn’t recognize it when one was standing in front of me. Please accept my sincere apology.”

  Marcus had stood and extended his hand. After we’d shook hands, he walked over to an antique Chinese black lacquered armoire in the corner. He came back with two glasses and a bottle of scotch.

  “You look like a scotch man to me, Ben. Am I right?”

  “Absolutely. You’re growing on me, Marcus.”

  He poured three fingers worth in each glass and handed one to me. He raised his glass. “To a long and prosperous partnership … and to Margaret.”

  We toasted.

  “I hope you realize I was just attempting to look out for Margaret,” he said.

  “I know that.”

  “The truth is, Ben, you and I are going to have to work together a lot. The whole Marshak enterprise is a very complex financial situation, and there are constant legal issues that arise. You may not be aware of it now, but you’ll soon find out, and some of them will involve you.

  “There is extreme wealth and power here. And where there’s wealth and power, there are enemies that want to take it away.”

  “What do you want me to do?” I asked.

  “Just keep your guard up because you’ll be a part of this enterprise soon, and the leeches will come out and want to suck on the Marshak teat.”

  “I’ve already seen it,” I said. “With my ex-wife, Jennifer. She’s got it in her head that I’ll be able to fork over a few hundred grand when I marry Maggie.”

  “Exactly. Luckily, she has no legal claim.” Marcus paused and read my face. “You look like you have something on your mind.”

  “I do. I’d prefer it if Maggie and I had a prenuptial agreement. I really want nothing she’s got, and I’d feel better if it was in writing.”

  Marcus shook his head and smiled. “I suggested that to Margaret last month and got nowhere. She wants you to be an equal partner. And I must say, having learned what kind of a man you are, I now agree.”

  He finished off his scotch. “Which brings me to the real reason I asked you down to see me: as an equal partner there are certain perks that come with the territory.” He opened a desk drawer, pulled out an envelope, and dumped the contents on his desk.

  “Here is your membership card to the Highlands Country Club. You won’t need it after they know who you are. They have a championship golf course designed by Jack Nicklaus, and all the usual elite country club trappings. It’s the most exclusive club in the Triangle, and I think you’ll really enjoy it.” He grinned and added, “Your future mother-in-law is there all the time.”

  I reluctantly took the card. “Thanks, but the last thing I wanna do is rub elbows with a bunch of stuck-up golfin’ assholes.” I no sooner got the words out of my mouth than I noticed the four golf trophies on the bookcase behind him. “Sorry. Sometimes I suffer from foot-in-mouth disease.”

  Marcus laughed, “Have you ever played golf,” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Well, don’t give the sport a bad rap until you’ve tried it. Tell you what, next spring let’s you and I go out together and kill us some snakes. What do ya say?”

  I thought about it, and decided to give it a try. “All right, but if you turn me into an asshole, I’m not going to be happy.”

  He laughed again and pointed to my glass.

  “Refill?”

  “No. Thanks,” I said.

  “Here’s your credit card,” Marcus said. “It has a hundred thousand dollar limi
t. There will also be ten thousand dollars in spending money put into your personal bank account each month.” He handed me a bank signature card and an ATM card. “You’ll need to sign that signature card and drop it off at the bank. You’ll also need to set up your ATM pin number.”

  “Ten thousand dollars … every month? What the hell am I going to do with it?”

  Marcus smiled. “And the final piece of business is this: Margaret has tasked me with acquiring your wedding gift.”

  I looked at him, astonished. “You’re going to buy my wedding gift? How romantic.”

  “I know. Margaret is a very busy woman, but she wants to give you something special. I have explicit orders to get you something ‘profound’.”

  “How profound?” I asked.

  “Very profound—as in, money is no object kind of profound.” He leaned back in his chair, and looked at me. “So what’ll it be … a race car? An airplane?”

  “I don’t fly.”

  “You could learn.”

  I shook my head. “No. That’s not for me.”

  “How ‘bout a yacht? You could berth it at Nags Head or on Hatteras Island by Larkspur.”

  “Larkspur?”

  Marcus was enjoying this. “Yes, Larkspur. That’s the name of the beach house on Hatteras Island owned by the Marshak family. It’s right on the ocean—fantastic place. You should try to get Margaret to take some time off and go there. Like on a honeymoon maybe?

  “Anyway, about the wedding gift,” he said. “What’s it gonna be?”

  I hated talking about money and material things. “Marcus, I really don’t want anything. I’m just happy that Maggie has agreed to be my wife.”

  But he wouldn’t give up. “C’mon, there must be something … something you’ve always wanted but couldn’t have.” He watched me as my wheels turned. “Aha! You’ve thought of something. I can see it on your face. What is it?”